In a mature democracy, what is legal is decided by parliament...

The words of Carles Puigdemont, “In a mature democracy, what is legal is decided by parliament... Our process is legitimised by parliament and by the ballot box,” speak with the solemn gravity of one who believes that sovereignty resides not in the hands of rulers, but in the collective voice of the people. It is a declaration not merely of law, but of legitimacy — of the sacred bond between citizens and the institutions that represent them. In these words, Puigdemont affirms that democracy, when fully grown and dignified, draws its power from two sources: the deliberation of parliament, where reason governs, and the ballot box, where the heart of the people speaks. One without the other is tyranny cloaked in order; together, they form the living soul of freedom.

The origin of this quote lies in the turbulent struggle of Catalonia’s bid for independence from Spain. Puigdemont, then President of the Catalan Government, found himself at the center of a storm — torn between the laws of the Spanish state and the will of his own people. To his opponents, his movement was rebellion; to his supporters, it was democracy in its purest form. When he uttered these words, he was defending not just his political cause, but a principle as old as civilization itself: that in a mature democracy, the legitimacy of law must spring from the consent of the governed. For without that consent, legality becomes nothing more than control, and governance becomes domination disguised as order.

Puigdemont’s statement echoes through history like the cries of other peoples who sought to define law by their own voice. When the American colonies declared independence from Britain, they too claimed that laws imposed without representation were not laws, but chains. When India, under Gandhi’s guidance, rose against imperial rule, it did so not by rejecting the idea of law, but by demanding that law reflect justice and the will of the people. So too in Puigdemont’s words, one hears this ancient and recurring truth: that law without legitimacy is hollow, and legitimacy without participation is fragile. True democracy matures only when its citizens become both authors and guardians of their own destiny.

Yet his words also reveal a profound tension — the eternal struggle between law and conscience, between authority and freedom. For every parliament that seeks to define what is legal must remember that legality is not infallibility. The ballot box, as Puigdemont reminds us, is the heart that must give law its pulse. Laws may shape nations, but votes give them life. When citizens speak, and their voices are silenced in the name of legality, democracy withers from within. In this sense, his quote is both a defense and a warning — that maturity in democracy is measured not by obedience, but by the wisdom to align law with justice, and justice with the will of the people.

To understand his conviction, one might recall the story of Solon of Athens, the wise lawgiver who reformed his city-state to rescue it from civil strife. Solon knew that laws must serve harmony, not dominance; that a people’s peace depends not on silence, but on shared trust in their system of governance. “Laws,” he said, “are like spider webs — they catch the weak, but let the strong break through.” And so he crafted laws that reflected not the interests of a few, but the conscience of the many. Puigdemont’s words, though born in a different age, carry that same ancient wisdom: that true law is not the will of the powerful, but the agreement of the just.

But in his tone there is also defiance — the cry of a leader who stood against institutions older and stronger than himself. His invocation of the parliament and the ballot box was a shield against those who accused his cause of illegality. He sought to remind the world that democracy, by its nature, must evolve — that every system of law must make room for renewal, for dissent, and for the reimagining of sovereignty. In his view, Catalonia’s vote for self-determination was not a crime, but an act of civic faith — an attempt to express the voice of the people within the very framework that democracy provides. Whether history judges him as hero or rebel, his words stand as a testament to the enduring struggle for legitimacy in the face of power.

Let the lesson of Carles Puigdemont be carried forward to all who govern and all who are governed: law without the people’s voice becomes tyranny, and freedom without lawful structure becomes chaos. A mature democracy, therefore, must walk the narrow path between order and liberty, listening both to its institutions and to its citizens. If you would preserve freedom, guard the ballot box; if you would preserve justice, honor the parliament. And if you would call your nation mature, ensure that every law it enacts flows from the consent, conscience, and participation of its people. For the greatness of any democracy lies not in its age, but in its ability to hear its citizens and to act with the wisdom of their will.